Preferences with failure
by Imo97
Summary: SPOILERS 01x18 and 08x12 After the loss of Maeve, Morgan tries to get Spencer to confide in him, only to realise Reid won't easily be comforted, not with this guilt. Better than it sounds, I promise! Please R&R :)


**A.N. This is my first Criminal Minds fanfiction, so please be kind ^-^ Reviews are very much welcome, and I'm open to suggestions for other stories, or ways to improve this one. Thanks! (I do not own Criminal Minds)**

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Morgan hated the moratorium on inter-team profiling. It meant that so much was ignored, in case someone was accused of breaking the rules. And now they'd done this job for so long, none of them were sure how much profiling was simply in human interaction, and which was the extra – the banned – delving.

He was cursing this as he watched Reid gaze out the plane window, each light of the city below dappling his face like tears. The doctor's eyes were unfocused, and the lack of the sharp intelligence they usually held concerned Derek more than anything. Noting that everyone else was sleeping, he thumped his palm on the arm rest once and decided enough was enough.

"Hey, kid?" Reid hummed a response and just barely twitched his head towards Morgan. "Kid, look at me."

The young man sighed through his nose and turned his eyes to the other agent, but didn't focus on his features. Sighing himself, Derek leaned forward onto his elbows, planting himself in Reid's personal space, and not being at all surprised when Spencer leant back into the cold embrace of the chair.

"Kid, talk to me."

At last, Spencer responded, "What about?"

"Maeve."

A flop of hair fell as he ducked his head; his fingers began worrying the cuffs of his knitted cardigan.

"Spencer-"

"I don't want to talk, Derek."

"Kid-"

"No!"

Morgan heard the stitches being snapped in Reid's sleeve as his fingers clenched around it. Behind them JJ stirred. Derek looked through the gap between the chairs to check she was still sound asleep, and despite the small crease of her brow, she was.

"Look, Reid-" he began, turning back. There was a brush of corduroy and Morgan could only see the retreating back of his friend, whose long legs were quickly carrying him away. The soft click of the bathroom door closing sounded to Derek as final as the locking down of a high security cell.

Spencer's hands shook as he splashed cold onto his face. It was a vain hope that he'd be able to hide the tears he'd spilt from Morgan, but perhaps his friend would appreciate the effort and not question him on the redness of his eyes. He cast the door a sidelong glance and ghosted his fingers across the metal: it was cold. He leant his weight onto the handle to open it, rather than exerting the effort to turn his wrist.

Derek's head was in his hands, and as Spencer watched from the bathroom doorway, the man swiped his palms over his scalp. His dark eyes saw Reid as he did so.

"Hey, pretty boy," he murmured. "Look, man, I'm sorry. I get it, you want privacy; I just worry about ya."

Reid nodded his head at the floor, and sidled back to his seat. He sank as far into the leather as the upholstery would allow. Before realising it, Spencer began to talk.

"I feel guilty."

Morgan's ears pricked. He knew he had to be careful here, else Reid would clam up entirely.

"About Maeve? Kid, you know that wasn't your fault." But Spencer was shaking his head.

"No, not about Maeve, about Lila."

Now he was confused: what did Lila Archer have to do with this melancholy?

"Kid…" A pause, "Pretty boy, I'm sorry, but you've lost me."

The pair caught one another's eyes, and Morgan was shocked at the pain in Reid's.

"I feel guilty, because when I confronted Lila's stalker, lying about who loved who worked. When I confronted her stalker, not a shot was fired. And on that case, I got to kiss the right girl. And I feel guilty because I'd do anything for her case and Maeve's to be swapped around."

His voice was shaking with the effort of not letting it crack, and Morgan's eyes began to mist. Derek didn't know what to say, but was spared the difficulty when Reid continued.

"It's not as though I want her dead, it's just…" He took a shuddering breath. "It's just I think of how _little_ Lila meant to me compared to Maeve, you know? And then I think of how that relationship was more 'romantic' than mine and Maeve's ever was in normal social terms, and how I'll never get to have that level of intimacy with Maeve, and it hurts, Morgan, it _hurts."_

A tear rolled from his eye, and he angrily swiped it away with his fist.

"It hurts that I could save Lila from the gun at her head, and that I couldn't save Maeve from the gun at hers. It hurts that I could kiss Lila and pretend she loved me and it saved her, but I couldn't kiss Maeve, and I couldn't pretend to love Diane enough to-"

Now his voice did crack, and he stopped for a moment to collect himself some.

The silence began to stretch, and the older agent took the chance to offer support.

"Reid, listen." He stopped, gathered himself, continued. "It's perfectly natural to be thinking about 'what ifs' this way. Losing Maeve, it was hard on you, more than hard… And I see the similarities to Lila's stalker too. But you shouldn't feel guilty, man. You said it yourself; you don't want Lila to die!"

Spencer looked at his friend from beneath his lashes.

"No, but I'd prefer to have failed her, than to have failed Maeve."

There it was: the ugly truth. Laid bare before them both.

It was quiet, but for Rossi's snuffle and Morgan's breaking heart.

"Oh kid… You didn't fail Maeve, not at all. You gave her something just as important as what she gave to you; you loved her, and she knew it, man! You didn't fail her at all! You _made_ her, you completed her, as she did you, so of course you wish someone – anyone – else had died, it's natural, it's a part of grief."

Reid's lips were pressed in a tight line, and he'd looked down, away from Morgan. His shoulders were just barely shaking.

"You're a good person, Spencer. I know that, Maeve knew that. Please don't feel guilty over this."

There was a hitched breath, and Morgan stood to move seats, to sit beside his friend. He pulled Reid to his chest, and patted his back silently.

"Morgan?" he sniffed.

"Yes, pretty boy?"

"Thank-you."

"Anytime."

With a small, sad chuckle, Spencer lifted his head and resumed looking out the window. The only difference now was that the tears weren't that of dappled light.

"And for the record, kid, your relationship with Maeve was the most romantic and loving I've ever seen."

And there, at last, Morgan saw Spencer's lips curl into a tiny smile.


End file.
